Camdown #8 - Our Minds Bend | Matilda

        July 31, 1923  

11:00 AM
♫⁠

---

He'd made his own damn bed, and now he was laying in it.

Lev would take care to remind himself never to suggest ideas to Oleg Zdravkova, lest they take on an unsavory turn and leave him responsible for carrying it out. He had meant for Drago to handle his own betrothed when the suggestion had been made to question Matilda Nordstrom in regards to her cousins, but Father had other strategies and wanted to keep Drago in the dark for now.

It was sensitive work, Oleg had said, and needed to be carried out by as few as possible. Bringing Matilda into their scheme was the right move. Keeping her quiet, especially from his brother, would be another feat, he supposed.

Lev didn't pretend to know the Nordstrom girl. Outside of a polite greeting, he'd never offered her any discourse or even polite conversation. He didn't see the need to. Her relationship with his family stopped with his father and brother and had no bearing on Lev's every day life. If one day she became a problem, Liliya would deal with her, and spare him the headache of having to insert himself into the gardener's life.

Matilda was brash. Uncontained. Outspoken. She had no sense of propriety, from what Lev had gathered and no ability to keep her thoughts to herself in a public setting. Already, Lev didn't believe she was good enough to be Drago's wife or a Zdravkova in general, but again, the choice was not his to make and he had already made his peace with the situation.

She would be Drago's problem in the future.

For now, Lev only needed to get her on his side.

He'd sent his patronus - a Borzi - the evening before to inform the girl that he would be stopping by. No context. No explanation. It was better this way. It left her little time to try and reach Drago and ask him what about. The sharp rebuke within his message insisting she keep her mouth shut about the visit hopefully got the point through.

This wasn't a family meeting.

Apparating in front of the townhouse where he was told he could find her, he cleared his throat and knocked a few times.

Perhaps the Nordstroms had enough grace not to leave a visitor waiting on their front stoop.

The arrival of the patronus wasn’t anything new in the Nordstrom home, Bram received messages daily in the same manner. The one that arrived the previous evening, however, had been completely unexpected.

Lev Zdravkova would be calling on her.

Matilda read the message three times before it finally sank in. No explanation. No reason. Only the time, the place and the instructions that she was to tell no one.

Comforting…

By breakfast the drawing room had already been aired out, flowers replaced, and the tea service laid out exactly the way Mrs. Beaumont had taught her. She'd spoken with the house elves about refreshments, checked with the house manager that everything was in order, and even asked the elves to polish the silver a second time.

If this was a test, she refused to fail.

The tea was on, a Russian Caravan blend Matilda had made just for the Zdravkova visits. There was lemon, honey and milk, since she wasn’t sure what he might prefer.

Her dress had been chosen with great care. Conservative. Appropriate. Modest.

Typically, her hair was long and wavy, but today every strand had been fixed into an intricate braided updo and secured with enough magical hairspray that it would survive a hurricane. It would take five washes and an act of God to make it move again.

Mrs. Beaumont would have found very little to criticize. Matilda hoped Lev would feel the same.

After the garden party, she wasn’t willing to risk another mistake.

When the knock finally echoed through the townhouse, her shoulders tensed immediately. Posture. Chin up. Hands folded. Don't fidget. Taking a deep breath, she stood and headed towards the front door. Poppy, their longtime house manager answered, greeting Lev warmly, inviting him in.

As the front door shut, Matilda stepped into the entrance hall, offering Lev a polite curtsy and a pleasant smile.

“Mr. Zdravkova. Welcome to the Nordstrom residence."

She straightened gracefully, her hands folding together in front of her. "If you'll follow me, I've had tea prepared."

Matilda led him through the entrance hall, passing the staircase to the second floor and portraits of generations of Nordstrom ancestors. Walking into the drawing room, the sun came through the large windows, lighting the space in a summer glow.

The room felt bright and welcoming, which was the plan.

Matilda paused beside one of the chairs, allowing Lev to choose his seat first. She lowered herself carefully onto the chair, ankles crossed neatly beneath her seat, back straight, hands resting in her lap.

A pair of house elves appeared carrying the teapot and tray of finger sandwiches, scones, jams and slices of medovik, a Russian honey cake she knew Drago and his other siblings enjoyed.

"I took it upon myself to choose a Russian Carvana blend," she said as she poured his cup first, the dark tea steaming in the decorative teacup. "I wasn't sure how you take your tea, so I thought it best to have lemon, honey and milk available."

She set his cup carefully down on the saucer, before pouring her own cup, then settling into her seat, giving Lev her full attention. Having no idea why he was there, Matilda took a small sip of her tea and waited for him to give her some indication on why he was there.

“Mr. Zdravkova. Welcome to the Nordstrom residence."

How formal. Lev nodded his greeting as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "Miss Nordstrom." Just several days - weeks maybe - prior, he'd called her Matilda, but this was her home and he'd defer to her the same way she deferred to him. There was no need for over familiarity, considering there was none between them, and this would be, he hoped, a brief conversation.

One that wouldn't have the girl expecting that their relationship went further than business. Perhaps the girl believed that with time and a good impression she would be seen as a sibling, the same as Drago or perhaps Wiosna. To Lev's mind, she wouldn't. His brother's wife would just be that.

"If you'll follow me, I've had tea prepared."

"Thank you," he offered politely, following her through the entrance and into the drawing room. His eyes flicked impassively over the portraits on the walls, the design and expense that had gone into decorating the Nordstrom's London home. Nothing glaring that stood out to him as vulgar or tasteless. Rather, it was all well-kept, as he supposed it should be.

But it was no real matter to him, in the end. He wouldn't be the one visiting in-laws here.

He took the nearest chair, finally flicking his gaze to the redhead who sat down opposite him as the house elves brought a selection of sandwiches and pastries. He hadn't realized he was stopping in for tea, but he could give the girl credit for her hospitality. While he found it unnecessary, and had no interest in English food or beverages -

"I took it upon myself to choose a Russian Carvana blend. I wasn't sure how you take your tea, so I thought it best to have lemon, honey and milk available."

"That...is kind of you. Thank you." Color him surprised. It was the most direct interaction he'd ever had with his brother's betrothed, and while he wasn't impressed in any manner of the word, he could admit that her attempt to make him comfortable was nice, and he appreciated it.

It didn't erase Wiosna's party and the way she'd conducted herself, but that was Drago's problem, not his.

"Only lemon will be fine." He took his tea, offering another polite nod, before he sat it in front of him, eager to get down to business and past all the formal niceties.

"I assume you heeded my warning not to mention this to Dragomir?" Direct and to the point. "At my father's request, not mine." In truth, Lev cared not whether Drago knew what he was doing, but Oleg had his concerns for one reason or another. He knew his younger brother could be trusted, but apparently that trust wasn't held within his father.

"It's a sensitive matter that I've come to you with." He leaned forward, drumming his fingers for a moment on the table as he fixed the girl with a hard look. "So sensitive that it cannot leave this room, do you understand?" Another beat. When he felt she did, he gestured lightly with his fingers in her direction, a casual wave meant to ease the tension.

"I need your help gathering information that concerns your current family." He emphasized the word to help her understand that he expected her loyalty now, regardless of her surname or marital status. She was betrothed, and therefore already belonged to them lest her grandfather find a way to weasel his way out of a deal.

"Thatcher Ravenstone will soon meet the end of his dealings." He sat back in his chair, chin held high with a confidence he always carried when handling less savory practices.

"And you, Miss Nordstrom, are going to help him across the finish line."

So far good…

They were sitting down, tea was served, no one had died yet. She was calling it a win.

If she wasn't mistaken, Lev actually seemed... surprised? Impressed? It was difficult to tell with him. The Russian tea had at least earned a polite thank you, which felt like progress.

"I assume you heeded my warning not to mention this to Dragomir? At my father's request, not mine."

And there went the pleasantries. The Zdravkova men could benefit from a lesson in small talk. Mrs. Beaumont would have had plenty to say about that.

Matilda simply nodded in the appropriate places, seeing no reason to interrupt. Listen. Observe. Speak only when spoken to. It seemed to be the preferred role of a future Zdravkova wife.

"It's a sensitive matter that I've come to you with. So sensitive that it cannot leave this room, do you understand?" This was getting interesting. Another nod, as she sat up straighter, listening closely and watching his face for any tells.

At this point, the man had none. He was a barely animated statue, with just as many emotions.

"I need your help gathering information that concerns your current family." Current. The word choice wasn't accidental. A simple reminder of where her loyalties were expected to lie.

Then came the sentence she never could have anticipated.

"Thatcher Ravenstone will soon meet the end of his dealings." What. The. Hell… Matilda had been sitting quietly during their one sided conversation trying to decipher the reason for the meeting. Never had she thought it would be Thatcher Ravenstone.

"And you, Miss Nordstrom, are going to help him across the finish line."

Matilda’s composure cracked briefly, her eyebrows rising into her hairline.

There was no love lost between herself and Thatcher Ravenstone. The man deserved every bit of trouble that came his way.

But Lev wasn’t asking for her opinion on the man… he was asking for help. Matilda remained quiet for several seconds. She looked down into her teacup, watching the steam curl upwards before lifting her eyes back to Lev.

"What exactly are you asking me to do, Mr. Zdravkova?" There was no accusation in her voice. No anger. Only caution. "I'd like to understand before I agree to anything."

"Your agreement is a nice sentiment, Miss Nordstrom, but not necessary. There is no option here."

In the case that she needed it clearer that he expected her to do as she was told, he leaned forward on the table, clasping his hands together as he fixed her with a cold stare. "You understand that in this family, there is no 'deciding' if you will undertake a task you are given? Betrothed is as good as married. You are Zdravkova. Before you are Nordstrom or anything else."

A small, cold smile curled at the corner of his mouth, barely visible but there. Blue eyes narrowed slightly. "You love Dragomir, yes? It is fortunate that you have been arranged with someone you can love. It would be easy for my father to decide that..." he gave a simple shrug with his hands before clasping them, "...perhaps you are not the right fit for this family." What was it Liliya had said all those months ago? That he enjoyed swinging his dick around?

It wasn't so much that he needed Matilda to obey him. He needed her loyalty to the family, and this was her first test. If she couldn't pass it, then his father could decide what to do from there. Drago would get over it should Oleg decide to call off the betrothal, eventually. His brother was soft-hearted and while he'd be hurt, Lev knew eventually he'd fall for someone else given enough time.

Regardless, whether Lev or Drago liked it or not, Oleg did what was best for him, which meant it was best for all of them. Even if they couldn't see it in the moment.

"You'll gather information regarding Ravenstone's business and deliver them to me. Financial records, business contacts, contracts that he'd rather not see the light of day. We want his practices in hand, along with any other information you can provide that can be substantiated before the Wizengamot."

He sat back in his chair again, leaving his tea untouched, along with the cake that had been set between them. A nice gesture, but one he wouldn't be partaking in. Social calls called for tea and cake and whatever else the English thought was necessary.

This was merely business, and it was nearly concluded.

"It goes without saying that this is a confidential matter between you and myself." To ensure she understood what he meant, "This goes no further than this table. Not your grandfather. Not Dragomir." His father had his reasons. If somehow Drago found out, he'd handle it at that time.

He waited a beat as silence settled between them. "Any questions, Miss Nordstrom?"

"Your agreement is a nice sentiment, Miss Nordstrom, but not necessary. There is no option here." The primal need to roll her eyes was controlled. A testament to her restraint and everything she had learned in her etiquette classes.

Matilda said nothing as Lev continued. Her fingers tightened around the handle of her teacup, almost to the point of snapping. "You love Dragomir, yes?"

Her stomach dropped. That was low. She didn’t answer, her face a mask of indifference.

Matilda’s first instinct was to tell him exactly what she thought of using his own brother as leverage, and where he could shove it. The words were already there, sharp and ready. She swallowed them. Although, seeing the reaction that would come after telling her future brother in law to shove it up his ass, would almost be worth it.

Posture. Poise. Keep your tongue.

Matilda lowered her cup carefully to the saucer before she accidentally snapped the handle clean off. She listened.

Financial records. Business contacts. Contracts. Anything that could be used before the Wizengamot.

Thatcher had never tried to hide his darker side. He wasn’t the type to scream or rage, but Matilda had witnessed his anger on more than one occasion. Whether he was careless with evidence was another question entirely.

"Any questions, Miss Nordstrom?"

Many. Matilda took a slow breath.

"Yes.” Her voice remained calm. "Do you have any idea where he keeps his records? He has his office at the family home, but do you have any information that might help me narrow down where to look? Anything that would give me somewhere to begin rather than searching an entire estate?”

She folded her hands neatly in her lap. There. Practical. Reasonable. No arguing. She paused before continuing.

"I would prefer not to go in blind. I think we can both agree, that never ends well.” Matilda kept her eyes on Lev, no emotion, no outbursts. Lifting her tea to her lips, she took a sip before returning it to its saucer.

What they were asking her to do… no, telling her to do, was troubling, obviously illegal and could get her in a lot of trouble, or possibly hurt. There had been talk of Thatcher doing something to Everleigh, his own daughter. He wouldn’t bat an eye at turning his want on Matilda.

That being said, she would do it. Not only for her future family, but for her current one. After everything that happened with Ever and Alice, Thatcher deserved everything that came his way.

”I assume this is time sensitive. When do you need the evidence? With school starting in a month, there isn’t a lot of time, but I image you’d like it sooner rather than later.”

Her mind was already working through the how of this mission. Finding out when he left the house, when he returned, if her Aunt was back from Paris, how would she find the evidence, then how to smuggle it out.

There was a lot to consider. She just hoped he gave her something to work with.

If anyone, even his brother, were to ask Lev what he thought of Matilda's feelings or sentiments on any matter, the answer would be the same. None. Her opinions, her thoughts, her ideas, none of it sent even the slightest of care through the young man or perked even the slightest of his interest.

To her credit, she maintained stoicism, which Lev preferred. No matter one's feelings, they were one's own. Not meant to be shared or voiced unless invited to. If Matilda harbored any ill sentiment about what she was being told to do or whether she appreciated the methods, it wasn't worth knowing. It would serve no one, especially not Lev.

He had one objective, and her accomplishing it would be enough.

"Do you have any idea where he keeps his records? He has his office at the family home, but do you have any information that might help me narrow down where to look? Anything that would give me somewhere to begin rather than searching an entire estate?”

Did she think he was a close, personal friend of Thatcher Ravenstone? Did she think he often found himself invited to the Ravenstone estate for...tea? "I imagine like any other man, he likely keeps his documents in his office," Lev answered evenly, his middle finger tapping idly on the table as he fixed her with an almost lazy gaze. "But he is your uncle, yes? You would know him better." It was a strange question, but Matilda was a strange girl.

"I would prefer not to go in blind. I think we can both agree, that never ends well.”

"Then don't go blind," he offered helpfully, a slight shrug of his shoulder meeting the indifference in his voice. Still, he supposed if he had to do all the work for her...

He reached into his pocket, retrieving a small piece of parchment and slid it across the table to her. A list of places she might find what she was looking for, graciously provided by her lunatic cousin. "Perhaps you will find this useful." His father was nothing if not thorough before assigning a task to any of them.

”I assume this is time sensitive. When do you need the evidence? With school starting in a month, there isn’t a lot of time, but I image you’d like it sooner rather than later.”

"We need it now." It wasn't an exaggeration. Oleg Zdravkova didn't like to be kept waiting when he expected results. He stood from the table, leaving his untouched tea still steaming in its cup. "Thank you for your hospitality. You know where to find me when you have what we've asked for."

He offered her a polite nod of his head. He'd see himself out.

15 August 1923
Wednesday


This was ridiculous.

ABSOLUTELY FUCKING MENTAL.

Even so, Matilda was getting ready to apparate to Blackthorn Hall. The former home of Alice and Ever, and the current residence for their hideous father. She had no idea if her Aunt Margery was even still living there.

She checked her satchel once more before leaving. Everything was ready, the extension charm worked perfectly. The list was there, her wand was in hand, her story was rehearsed. This would work.

It had too…

POP

Standing on the front porch of Blackthorn Hall, Matilda took a deep breath before knocking. Her small hand barely made a sound on the large wooden door, but she could hear the sound magnified inside the home.

It only took a minute for the door to open, Matilda’s eyes looking up, for some reason expecting Thatcher himself to answer the door. He would never do something so menial.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to see a house elf, clothed in only a dirty tea towel, standing there looking up at the red head. Thankfully, she recognized the small creature.

”Hello Miss Tilly. The Master asks for no visitors.” He said in a high pitched voice. The door was shutting before she even said hello.

”No, please Dinny. I need to come in. Can I please speak to my Uncle, or Aunt if she is in?’

It was a calculated risk. She had no desire to talk to her uncle, but she needed to know which of the Ravenstone’s was home. Matilda had sent an owl to Alice, asking about her fathers schedule. Typically taking meetings at the office on Wednesday. She hoped that was still the case.

”Master is not home Miss. The Mistress is… ahh… indisposed.”

Drunk. Her Aunt was probably drunk off her ass.

It was a common enough topic between Bram and Allegra. Margery had begun dulling her pain with alcohol and harder, more recreational substances.

”Please Dinny, I need to speak to her. This is important, it’s about Everleigh.”

The rounded eyes of the elf became bright with happiness. Everleigh was a favorite around the house, everyone loved and missed her younger cousin. ”Miss Ever? Ma’am? You have seen her?”

Tilly smiled sadly, then kneeled to be closer to the elf. ”Yes. I saw her just last week. She is doing very well. We’re hoping she will be able to come home soon.”

This wasn't exactly true. Ever leaving St Mungo’s wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. ”Miss. No. Miss Everleigh must not return to Blackthorn Hall.” The small elf said in a stern voice.

Matilda didn’t know Dinny well, only seeing him when visiting, but he wasn’t one to be so forceful. The elves would know more than anyone what happened behind the doors of Blackthorn Hall. Undoubtedly silenced. ”We will be taking her back to Sweden. Her grandfather will look after her, I promise.”

The elf visibly relaxed. That was enough evidence to tell her that something had happened to Everleigh in this house, which made it all the more important for her to get inside.

---

Dinny brought Matilda inside, showing her to a small sitting room on the second floor. They passed Thatcher’s office on the way up the stairs, the door was open two inches, no light coming from within.

Entering the sitting room, her Aunt Margery came into view. It had been months since she saw her Aunt, and the time apart had not done her any favors. Her hair looked greasy, her clothing wrinkled, makeup smeared, and eyes glassy. She sat in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames.

”Aunt Margery?”

She didn’t move. Walking up to the chair, Tilly pulled an ottoman over, so that she could sit close. While she had nothing but hate for her Uncle, Tilly felt bad for her Aunt. She wasn’t handling this family drama well.

Taking her Aunt’s small, cold hands in her own, Tilly squeezed them gently. ”Aunt Margery?”

It was then that their blue eyes connected. They had the same eyes. Nordstrom eyes. ”I need your help.”

---

Their conversation had been very one sided. Margery, barely holding it together, ultimately retreated to her bed for a nap. Even at the early hour, Tilly could smell the spirits on her breath. It was hard to see, but she had other things to worry about at that moment.

Taking the stairs down quietly, but quickly, Tilly made her way over to the office. Her heart pounding in her chest. Her ears were alert, listening for the slightest noise, but the house was silent.

With the practised ease of a child who often snuck out of the common room after curfew, Tilly carefully entered the office and shut the door behind her. The candles came to life, bringing light into the space, her eyes looking everywhere to make sure she was alone.

”Muffliato!”

She wasted no time getting to work. Her first stop was the floor behind the sofa, thinking it would be the hardest to find. She was pleasantly surprised when it wasn’t.

The tufted leather sofa was sitting up against the wall opposite his desk. On either side was a small side table that Matilda had to move carefully to get behind.

Squatting down, she saw the small area that Ever used to hide. Only big enough for a small child.

The wood was slightly worn around the edges, where it gave way. Her hands felt around the boards, trying to slide them this way and that, but they didn’t budge. Then, she pushed on the middle board and all at once the area depressed and popped up.

Shocked, Tilly just stared at the small compartment and its contents. Large leather bound books, two of them, were just sitting there. With shaky hands, Tilly took the books and put them in her satchel. The normal looking inner zipper pocket opened into a much larger space. The extension charm doing it’s job well.

Looking over the neat piles on the desktop, Tilly wasn’t sure what to grab. Nothing looked overly shifty, so she moved on to the drawers.

Two held supplies, one had a stack of advertisements with Ravenstone Flightworks on the cover. She thumbed through the magazines, but found nothing. Moving on, she opened a fourth drawer and found stacks of opened letters. Having no time to read the contents, she grabbed every last letter and put them in her bag.

Looking back at the list of locations, she remembered the hidden compartment in the desk. Quietly pushing the chair back, she got on her knees to look under the desk. Feeling over the wood, she felt the seam before her eyes made out the crack. Pushing and pulling on the spot, she finally got it to pop open, revealing a small compartment within.

Again, she grabbed the contents, tossed the papers in the inner pocket and moved on.

The last spot in the room was the safe. This one worried Tilly. She had the numbers, but didn’t know in what configuration.

Pulling the picture away from the wall, that looked like an engineering schematic of a Racing broom, she stood and stared at the safe.

The lock was there, the dial filled with numbers from 1 to 100. Alice didn’t remember a combination, but did remember that a charm was needed first.

Pointing her wand at the safe, Matilda took a deep breath and said ”Alohomora.” An audible click could be heard before the number dial spun quickly, giving off a whirring sound.

The combination was provided by Ever’s memories, and once Matilda saw the numbers she laughed. Thatcher was such a narcissist, using his birthday to lock up his most prized possessions.

Taking a breath, she turned the dial a few times to clear the lock. Then, slowly, with shaking fingers she landed on 5… then 6… then 18… and then the dial landed on 83.

Click

Her heart was pounding hard in her chest as the safe door swung open. Stacks of ledgers, file folders, envelopes closed with wax seals, letters tied in bundles and cash stared back at her. She didn’t falter as her hands started pulling things out and stuffing them in her bag. It was getting heavier by the second.

Leaving the cash, everything else came with her.

She gave herself two more minutes to look around the office for anything. Grabbing a couple things off the desk, then what looked like a journal from the bookshelf, Tilly hefted her bag farther up on her shoulder before taking one last look around.

With a POP she landed in Ever’s room feeling slightly dizzy at what she had just done.

Her breaths were coming fast, heart pounding out of her chest. The hard part was over. Looking at the list once again, Tilly spent the next five minutes finding Ever’s journals, hidden all throughout her room.

Opening her satchel on the bed, Tilly zipped the smaller compartment closed, locking away all the evidence she managed to find.

The main compartment left for Ever’s belongings. A decent cover story. The small zipper pouch was where the true magic was held, and everything needed to bury her uncle.

Tilly half haphazardly started grabbing things Ever might like. A stuffed niffler, a small soft light blue quilt, a book from her nightstand and a few sweaters and dresses from her closet.

She didn’t hear the door open, didn’t see the man standing on the threshold watching.

When she turned around, her eyes meeting his, she screamed and tossed the sweaters in the air, absolutely scared out of her skin.

”Uncle Thatcher. Oh my, you scared me.”

Always put together, Thatcher Ravenstone stood in his daughters doorway in a three piece suit, polished leather shoes, with a pewter pocket watch tucked in his front pocket.

Things in his life were planned. There were rules. Expectations. Order.

The red head currently standing in a pile of wool was not expected. ”Matilda. Forgive me, but I don’t think I had you scheduled to stop by today.”

Matilda chuckled, a nervous sound, but she stood there in front of him, back straight, eyes meeting his. She had matured a lot since they last spoke.

”No, sorry. I didn’t announce my visit. I spoke to Aunt Margery, she said it was ok to grab a few of Ever's things. The Healers thought she might like a few more things from home.”

He pushed off the door jam, walking into the room. Picking up a small trinket, then putting it back where it belonged, he walked around the room while still keeping an eye on his niece. Everything in order. Everything clean. The elves maintained her room, even though she would never return to it.

”I find it interesting that the healers told you this, yet I never received an owl.” She smiled, as if a small action could fix all life’s issues.

”I was visiting her recently, when they brought it up. I told them I would come by and ask. They seemed fine with that.” She was lying. It was in the way her eyes moved and her fingers twisted. Subtle, but a tell none the less.

Thatcher moved closer to his niece, stopping a couple feet away, bending down to pick up one of the fallen sweaters. He held the soft cardigan in his hand, looking it over, trying to find some hidden reason why this item was making the cut.

”And this? Why does Everleigh need this?’

Matilda looked at him with a questioning look. There was no trust between the two, and they both knew it.

”Well, it’s going to be autumn soon, and Ever loves to spend time in the garden. She has the blue cardigan, but they thought it would be nice to have a few other options. And the stuffed animal was one of her favorites, so I thought maybe it would make her happy…”

There was something different about the girl. Older. More mature. Less… Matilda… It was a well-known fact in Pureblood society that she was betrothed to one of the Zdravkova sons. It was a good match. Two powerful families combining.

It was what he had wanted for Alice. A good family. A powerful alliance. A future already arranged.

And then Alice had gone and ruined it.

“Now, Matilda. I’m sure you are aware that Alice is no longer allowed in my home. She has sullied the name of Ravenstone. I know that you are close. So, I trust that you understand, I can’t allow you to bring anything to Alice from this house.”

The eyes always showed their truth. Matilda was nervous.

But nervous about what?

Thatcher said nothing.

Instead, he walked over to Everleigh’s bed and looked in her bag. He moved aside the quilt, the two dresses, and the stuffed animal. His fingers sifted through the contents at the bottom.

Vials of herbs. Tinctures. A journal.

And then his fingers paused. A branch of some sort. He picked it up, turning it slightly between his fingers before setting it back into the bag.

Nothing obvious. Nothing concerning. Nothing he would use on a Ravenstone Flightworks broom.

And yet, there was something about the collection of things that bothered him. Matilda had arrived with a story that sounded reasonable enough, but reasonable and true were not always the same thing.

He looked back at her.

“Matilda, I think you’re done here. You can take these things to Everleigh, but I don’t see the point. It’s not like she’s in her right mind.”

His gaze lingered on her for another moment.

“You’d do best to forget about your cousins altogether.”
He watched as Matilda picked the sweater off the floor and stuffed everything inside her bag. Picking it up off the bed, the vials inside clinked together. She went to pass him, but Thatcher stopped her by grabbing her upper arm in a tight grip.
She stopped, turning to look up, a note of fear in her eyes.

“Please, let me escort you to the door.”

Hand still on her upper arm, he walked Matilda down the stairs and to the front door. They didn’t talk, and Thatcher made no effort to fill the silence.

At the door, he finally released her. He straightened his jacket, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from the sleeve before looking down at her.

“Give Everleigh my regards.” His expression remained perfectly composed. “And Matilda?” He waited until she looked back at him. “Next time, send an owl first.” He opened the door for her, making it clear he expected her to walk out.

“Good afternoon.” The door closed, slamming in her face. Thatcher remained there for several seconds, staring at the space where she had stood.

He had no idea what Matilda had really been looking for, but he intended to find out.

---

OOC: Powerplays between Thatcher and Matilda ok, since they belong to the same human.

15 August 1923
Argentum Memoriae
Diagon Alley


Matilda appeared with a pop on the streets of Diagon Alley. Her heart pounding, hands clutching the strap of her weighed-down satchel. The next stop was Argentum Memoriae, the Zdravkova family business and the location of her future brother-in-law in all his ass-holish glory.

She walked down the street, her hands shaking, her eyes darting from left to right, expecting Thatcher to pop into existence right in front of her.

Thankfully, he didn’t.

The rapid clicking of her high heels on the cobblestone street stood out in the quiet. There were other shoppers, but it was fairly quiet for a Wednesday in August. Up ahead, she could see the sign, the ornate Z that would one day mean more to her... if she survived this..

Matilda stopped for a second to collect herself, smoothing down her hair and making sure her dress was still in perfect order. Squaring her shoulders, she shut her eyes, took a long cleansing breath, steeled herself, and opened the door.

Walking into the lobby, she was awed by the opulence of the building. It shouldn't have surprised her that the Zdravkova business would stop a person in their tracks upon entering.

Matilda was directed to Lev's office where she met Elizabeth, a saint of a woman who was exceptionally pleasant. Having to work with Lev on a daily basis, Matilda would have expected someone ready to run for the hills, but instead she was offered tea or water and shown to a comfortable waiting area.

And wait she did.

Matilda sat with her back ramrod straight, eyes on a swivel taking in everything. Thankfully, she never saw the elder Zdravkova’s. Something she was very happy about. Then, after what felt like hours, she was called into the office to see the other future family member she wanted to avoid.

Wasting no time, she walked in, her head held high, more than annoyed that she'd been asked to do such a precarious job. She had been no match for Thatcher and, at any time, could have been caught. They had shown zero regard for her safety. She was just another pawn in their master game.

Walking with purpose up to his desk, Matilda didn't waste time with explanations. She slipped her satchel over her head, placed it on the desk, flipped open the leather flap, pushed aside the sweaters and quilt, opened the small zippered pouch, and began depositing its contents onto his desk.

The Expansion Charm had done its job, allowing far more than anyone would have expected to be stored in her bag. Multiple ledgers, stacks of letters, bank statements, Ministry correspondence, and Everleigh’s journals were all stacked on his desk.

Zipping up her bag, she pulled it over her head and looked at Lev. A blank, annoyed expression crossed her face before the mask, beaten into her after years of etiquette training, slipped effortlessly into place. The sweet smile and bright eyes never left him as she gave a small curtsy.

Turning, with her back to her future brother-in-law, she walked with purpose out of the office, calling back, "You're welcome," before leaving without another word.

After returning to the streets of Diagon Alley, Matilda apparated back to her London home. Packing a quick bag, she knew she needed to find a place to hide until it was time to return to Hogwarts. Staying away from Thatcher until she was safely back at the castle would be her only mission for the rest of the summer.